Bill at the Pentecost Picnic several years ago
At 6:30 am, my goddaughter called and said her husband Bill had a heart attack and died. He was in the hospital with respiratory complications and a long history of heart and respiratory problems. Four years ago they told us that he might live six months. I wanted to jump in my car and go racing the four plus hours to get to my goddaughter.
But, I was the only person in the shop today. If I had left, the shop would not have opened, and I would have failed in one of my promises. So, I went to work.
I made the appropriate phone calls for Jenny, my goddaughter, to our priest, to the pastoral care committee, and to the crematory. Her daughter Missy was having hysterics - age 13 going on 5 mentally. Her other daughter is in a juvenile psychiatric home and dropped the phone screaming when she was told. Her son is doing okay but very sad.
We are moving out of our house for remodeling (wish they were remodeling me, but I've heard that's an inside job). The movers are coming Monday to put everything into storage. We are moving Saturday and Sunday and Tuesday, etc.
I have appointments with two new doctors (my previous doctors moved out of town) on Thursday. Anxiety. Will they understand? Will they listen?
Jenny wants me there for the funeral; so when I got home from work, I found that they have set the funeral for October 7 at the regular 11 am service. It was Bill's favorite service; he loved the music and the communion. I sponsored him for confirmation and taught his confirmaton classes. I loved Bill; he was a Vietnam veteran suffering deeply from post traumatic stress syndrome. I've had to help intervene when he was having a bad flashback. I've listened to his wonderful stories of his youth - over and over again. I've talked with nurses and social workers and .... Well, you get the picture. Although Bill was older than me, he called me "Mom"; he was my godson, too. He was beloved of God.
Today when I talked with Jenny the television wasn't blaring in the background and Bill wasn't telling Jenny what to say to me. I miss that. And, I will miss Bill.
How kind of God, though, to help them choose a date for the funeral that will allow me to be there and to stay a few days. To comfort and be comforted. To cry with Jenny and hug on Missy. They are family. And a time that will allow me to do the things I need to do for me.
I admit that I still want to jump in the car and go to be with them. But, that would not be taking care of me, and I just jumped Eileen about taking care of herself first. I still don't have a lot of energy from my respiratory problems...and I doubt that I could even make that drive now as tired as I am.
Okay, I'm rambling. My apologies. Please pray for my godfamily.